The Gift: An Open Letter to My Kids

Let's get it out in the open.
Things have been different lately.
It looks like I'm here,
but my mind is somewhere else.
You're acting out.
You're used to having Mommy around,
nursing every wound, making ice cream sundaes,
listening to every run-on sentence steam-rolling through your charged-up, little brains.

I love being that mom to you guys.
I gave up a twenty year career to be that mom.
I wanted to see for myself what I was hearing second-hand from the nanny.
I wanted to see you grow up.
And I have never regretted my choice.
(Ok, temper tantrums and bratty behavior don't count.)

So here's my gift to you.

No, it's not an IPod.
No, it's not a cell phone.
It's a lesson.
Yes, a lesson.
Now, shut up and listen, dammit.

Mommy's grow up, too.
Yes, even mommy's as old as me.
It's one of the cool things about life.
You keep growing and changing until your very last day.
But for adults, growth isn't measured in pounds and inches,
it's more a mental thing.
Like when you think you know all there is to know about math,
only to have your teacher introduce long division.

You see, that trip I took,
that "blogging thing",
jarred something loose.
Something that laid dormant for a long time.

Thinking back, I can recall hints of awakening.
A slight yawn here, an oxygenating stretch there.
But this trip splashed cold water on the face
of my yearning.

My need to be ME.

Not just the me who is your mom.
Me, the writer.
Me, the wife.
Me, the friend.

As an adult, life gets overwhelming.
We get buried underneath the weight of too many priorities.
Like choosing between mint chocolate chip or jamoca almond fudge.

It's easy to do lots of things,
impossible to do any of them well.

To tackle this problem,
I have a solution.
I'm putting myself first.
Yes, ME. FIRST.
At least SOME of the time.

Selfish. Definitely.
Shocking. I bet.
Bad mommy policy. I think not.

You see, if I don't do this now,
I may never do it.
These past few weeks have taught me that,
you can bury your dreams,
hibernate and adapt.
but like a bulb in spring,
your passion will always manage
to push it's way through.

So, aside from teaching you good table manners,
and not to pick your nose in public,
this is one of the most valuable lessons I will hand down to you.

It's good to be selfish.

Not hoarding all the Oreos kind of selfish,
put yourself first kind of selfish.
Because if you don't,
no one else will.

This took me decades to learn,
I'm saving you precious time.
Because before you can say,
"my mommy is soooo old",
you'll be as old as me.

Yes. Really. You will.

I'll try to be patient as you both adjust
to Mommy's new world order.
Just remember,
in the theater that is my life,
you two will forever occupy the front row.
Only now you'll have to make room for me.

Yes. Really. You will.



*photo courtesy of Google Images

Best Laid Plans: The Jokes on Me This Mother's Day

Today was going to be for me, a pre-mother's day gift to myself.

As of 7:30am this morning, this was how my day was going to go:

• Ready kids for school
• Drive son to school
• Do 20 minute pilates routine
• Meet friend for birthday brunch (hers)
• Write blog post
• Write out idea for a book
  
• Edit short story
• Pick up son from school
• Drive daughter to sleepover party in San Fernando valley (45:00 - 1:00hr away in rush hour traffic)

As of 3:30, this is how it's gone so far:

• Readied kids for school
• Drove son to school
• Picked up daughter's newly hemmed jeans which she "had to have" for party
• Started pilates routine
• Three minutes later stopped pilates routine: house alarm company called, something wrong with system, they must come to fix it NOW.
• Pediatrician called: son's strep test which was negative yesterday is now positive
• Waited impatiently for alarm technician who was already in transit
• Waited for him to fix the problem
  
• Rushed to school to pick up son who was breathing cootie-like, contagious germs onto his classmates
• Picked up antiobiotics at drugstore
• Held squirmy, screaming son's nose for 30 minutes as he spit out swallowed 8ml of antibiotics
• Stuck son in front of Scooby Doo video
• Read emails and recent blog posts
• Got call from carpool mom who said sorry but she can't do carpool and could I pick up my daughter instead
• Got another call from different carpool mom who can't drive and asked if I could take her carpoolers home

So, here I sit, about to join other pitiful commuters on the clogged 405 Freeway, listening to my kids fight over space on the 8 foot couch that's not big enough for the two of them. My plans for a beautiful day up in SAHM flames.

I'm pissed! I'm frustrated! I want to cry!

I guess I could breathe and tell myself this is simply a chapter in my own life's book. The "mommy" chapter where I do everything for everyone else and little is done for me. That in the following "empty nest" chapters it will be different, quiet, and I'll yearn for the busy days when my children buzzed around in constant need.

Like yesterday, when after two days at home with my son who had me running up and down the stairs to change the water that was too warm or the mac and cheese that was too cold, I experienced one of the sweetest mommy moments. While playing with his SpongeBob Squarepants grill he asked, "Mommy, are you hungry?" and, for once, though busy on the computer, I was present.

"Yes," I looked up from reading Dooce's post about wanting to "give New York City a blow job" and answered, "I'd like a hamburger please, hold the onions"

Seconds later (I didn't have the heart to tell him about E.coli) he appeared, "Here Mommy, your Triple Crabby Supreme and fries."

He waited for my critique. "Mmmmn," I said as I chewed emphatically, "this is the best burger I've ever had. Thank you, sweetie."

He smiled proudly as I pulled him close and kissed the top of his bushy-haired head.

This simple moment took me back to a time, not so long ago but a lifetime away, when I was permitted to kiss him on the cheek, when it was okay to hug him in public, when I, not Russell, or Cole, or Brendan, or Benjamin, was his best friend. It reminded me of how time flies; how fast kids grow.

I get it. No one has to hit me over the head with my own message - BUT- in order to make this okay...

...Mother's Day better ROCK!

(Hubby, are you listening?)

Happy Mother's Day to all.